


Sunrise over Sea

by ThatClumsyGirl



Series: Home of the Free [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: AU, Edward's sister (OC), M/M, Post-Series, World Travel, happy for now, it takes them a while to arrive, other family members and OCs, travel as a metaphor for change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatClumsyGirl/pseuds/ThatClumsyGirl
Summary: To make a new beginning, first you have to make an end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and the kudos on part 1! I really love you people :) I'm glad the whole idea is believable and the “sad but hopeful” thing really came across. (Apologies for not answering comments directly, I've been too anxious to read them until 5 mins ago)  
> Now, part 2. This is where it goes AU completely. I hope it'll stay believable. This is also the part I started with, as a writing-exercise. Before I realised it is not such a good idea to start a series in the middle … Some of this was originally written while I was on holiday in Hawaii last year. In fact, the whole idea for this series came up after I decided to visit there, to pass the time before the holiday started. (Side note: I completely adore Hawaii)  
> It is supposed to be a one-shot but I split it up into chapters to make it easier to read. Title borrowed from Mr. John Butler. Enjoy this one, it's the first thing I've written about them that isn't dark ...

_To-night ungather'd let us leave_

_This laurel, let this holly stand:_

_We live within the stranger's land,_

_And strangely falls our Christmas-eve._

 

_Our father's dust is left alone_

_And silent under other snows:_

_There in due time the woodbine blows,_

_The violet comes, but we are gone._

 

_(Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Poem 105, 1850)_

 

~21st December 1925~

“Something has come up, an opportunity, and I'm seriously thinking about taking it”, Edward says.

“What's happened?”

“Remember that house I told you about, the one I inherited from my great-uncle? The tenants are moving out at the end of the year and I thought, I might go and live there, if …” He mumbles something unintelligible and Thomas blames it on the telephone-line.

“Excuse me, I didn't catch that. If – what did you say?”

“If you come with me”, Edward all but whispers. He has that uncanny talent to pull the floor from underneath Thomas' feet with everything he does or says. Thomas is so dumbstruck, he can't even form words in his mind. Is Edward seriously suggesting running away together? “Thomas? Are you still there?”

“I'm here, I'm just … Where is this house you're talking about?” Better check the facts before the white noise of emotion overwhelms him.

“On the island of O'ahu, somewhere in the Pacific. It's part of Hawai'i, which is a US-territory these days. Uncle Harry always told me how beautiful it is”

The name Hawai'i conjures up images from out of a book about the South Seas – one of his childhood treasures. “That's a long way off” Be rational, Thomas, always be rational.

“That's kind of the point” There's a smile resonating in Edward's voice.

“It's a big step and going back would be almost impossible” There we are, think ahead, like an actual grown-up.

“I know. That's why I'm not sure about it, yet”

“And you want me with you on this great adventure?” It seems almost too far a stretch of the imagination.

“I … I want you with me. In general, I mean. All the time … Let's face it, you're as unhappy in England as I am. And who knows when another chance might come”, Edward sounds rushed, like he wants to get this off his chest, “Alright, the truth is, if you're not coming, I'm not going anywhere. But if you like the idea one little bit, I'd ask you to consider it”

The rational grown-up wavers distinctly. “I'll consider it”, Thomas says without hesitation and finds that he means it, “We'll talk about this properly when I'm next in London. I'll have an opportunity to slip away on Christmas Day while we're visiting the daughter. As a matter of fact, I've rather a surprise for you”

“Now I'm intrigued … I have to go, someone else needs to use the telephone”

They hang up and Thomas is glad he can now hide in the wine-cellar for a while and check the stores. This really came as a surprise and he can't take this decision lightly. Leaving England – he has thought about it now and again. There was his cousin in Bombay who was pretty convinced Thomas would like India and had offered to set him up there. His cousin doesn't live there anymore, so that opportunity came and went. And when he'd gone to America a few years ago, there had been moments when he'd thought about staying there, but he didn't have the courage to do it then. So, now he has another chance … What if it's the last one?

But then again – O'ahu? What would he even do there, where would he work? And it's so far away and probably costs a fortune to go there, if they don't like it, they can't just decide to come back home. And Yorkshire is home, Thomas has just recently learned that for good. Downton is home. And yet, he couldn't feel further away from it if he were on the moon. It's too far away for an afternoon off – if he wants to make it back in time – and when he'd had a day off, he hadn't been feeling too well and he didn't go. Lady Edith's wedding will be his chance to go there again, but what then? Something will come up every time, a year will pass, then two or three and he'll be stuck here, all alone, in a place desolate of memories and emotions and not much chance to make new ones. In short, he is lonely again and he is starting to feel trapped again. He really should leave before he gets entangled in routine and carrying on pointlessly just for the sake of carrying on.

The uncertainty, that's the problem. It is one of those risk versus reward situations and Thomas is absolutely not sure about any of it. What is Edward thinking, confronting him with a choice like this out of the blue? They really are two sides of the same coin. While Thomas can't rely on anything other than his head, Edward is all heart and instinct.

But isn't this a decision of the heart, really? So, what does Thomas' heart tell him? That he'll never be happy working in this house, that he has no future in England anyway and … _“I want you with me”_ , the words haunt Thomas' thoughts. It's a leap of faith but he thinks they might mean another kind of happiness is waiting for him, if he only dares jump.

 


	2. Chapter 2

~25th December 1925~

Thomas had packed in a hurry. Until the last moment, he had been torn, but then he'd heard the cook's voice outside his door, relaying some dreadful news to the maid about another household that had been given up and another set of servants unemployed, and he had grabbed everything he possesses and thrown it into his old battered suitcase. This morning, he'd left the house as if the Devil were chasing him. The drive to York and the train-journey to London passed by and Thomas still can't remember how they'd crossed London to get to the daughter's house. As soon as luncheon was over and Sir Mark had released him for the afternoon, Thomas had made his way to Edward's place in Southwark as fast as he could and knocked on the door with trembling fingers and an even more trembling heart. They haven't seen each other since that night in November, only spoken on the telephone a few times – a public telephone, making any kind of truly private conversation impossible.

“Thomas, is that you?”, Edward asks from behind the door.

“No, it's Father Christmas” Thomas really doesn't know where he finds the energy to joke.

Edward grins as he opens the door and that boosts Thomas' energy a bit but does nothing to calm his nerves. “Come in, you. I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would, after I ambushed you with my mad plan” He looks better than he did last time, more rested and less strung up.

“Of course I came. You may be a little mad, but it's not enough to put _me_ off”

This time, Edward actually laughs and Thomas has to make a real effort to ignore the fizzy feeling it creates in his heart. “That's a relief. Because I have every intention of going through with it, if you agree”

“I've been wondering about one thing: What are you going to do about immigration papers and such? We can't just go to America at the drop of a hat these days”

“Don't worry about that. I know a man at the American embassy, he's sorted it all out and I just need to collect the documents” Edward hesitates for a moment, seems to turn things over in his head. “Does this mean … Yes?”

“Yes. I'm coming with you to Hawai'i. I'm ready whenever you are” The words have been spoken, there's not much of a way back now.

“I can be ready by tomorrow, there are boats to New York all the time, and we'll go ahead from there” Edward smiles brightly and he looks like he has a hard time keeping calm. “I'm so glad we're doing this. But I'm trying not to be too happy until we're actually there and everything is well”

“It will be well. We're both very resourceful, we'll be fine … I'm relieved, really, to be leaving England” And that's not just something he says to suppress his doubts.

“Me, too” Edward looks more relaxed than Thomas has ever seen him.

Thomas wants to kiss him so badly, but he doesn't dare presume anything, not yet. And besides, the clock is ticking for that other thing he'd planned. “Now, you may remember, I told you I had a surprise for you”

“A Christmas present?”

“Something like that” Thomas really hopes he hasn't misjudged him. “We're going to call on your sister”

Edward's face tells him he really didn't see that coming, but not much else. “She's here? How do you know that?”

“I've made some inquiries. It turns out they always spend Christmas at their house in Kensington and their butler happens to be an old friend of mine. He's also told me her husband and children will be out for a few hours this afternoon, so you can visit her and no-one must ever know. If you want to, that is”

“Yes, I … would very much want to”, Edward whispers, still in a complete daze.

“We should get going, then”

Edward is very silent all the way to Holland Park Station and Thomas just knows he shouldn't break the silence. His friend needs to mentally prepare himself for this moment he's been waiting for for such a long time. Thomas prays that it will go well and that his sister will still be, at least in part, the girl Edward remembers.

They find the right white Georgian townhouse in the row of terraces and Thomas rings the bell. The butler Mr. Watkins, former valet to the Marquis of Flintshire, opens the door and shows them into the hall with a conspiratorial smile. “If you'll wait here, my Lady will be with you shortly” Thomas takes the chance to cast a look around. They certainly appear to have money.

Lady Sanderson, née Courtenay, is much as Thomas has imagined her. She reminds him of Lady Mary as she walks down the grand staircase, all cool self-confidence and classic beauty, capable of bringing together the old world and the new. But as soon as she sees Edward, a change goes through her, a crack in her grown-up shell and she cannot help but rush down the last steps.

“Teddy”, she says with a clear but failing voice as she takes his hands.

“Flo”, Edward whispers and Thomas can hear the tears threatening to break through. In a second, the dignified lady is in Edward's arms and they are holding each other close. Until they remember that they're English and not alone.

“I see you've brought a friend with you” Her attention shifts to Thomas and he realises how much she and Edward look alike. If he'd seen her in the street, he'd known who she was and no doubt about it.

“Yes, this is Thomas Barrow. We met during the war. Thomas, may I present my sister, Lady Florence Sanderson”

“How do you do?” Thomas takes her hand and tries to look as little as a servant as possible.

“Pleased to meet you”, Lady Sanderson replies and smiles at him in the same bright and honest way her brother does. Then she turns to the butler. “Watkins, can we have tea in the drawing-room, please”

“Of course, my Lady”

They go into the moderately-sized but expensively decorated drawing-room, sit on the sofas and talk about everything and nothing for a while. Thomas feels awkward being there because he knows he's keeping them from talking openly. When Watkins returns with the tea, his opportunity has come.

“Lady Sanderson, I feel I should leave you and your brother to have a private conversation”

“Oh no, it's quite alright. Every friend of Edward's is a friend of mine”

“That's kind of you, but I really don't want to impose. I shall go with Mr. Watkins and we'll do some catching up of our own. He and I used to meet at work now and again”

“Very well, if that is what you want”, she says but there is a grateful look on her face that belies her words.

He follows the butler downstairs. “You're a funny one, exchanging the grand drawing-room for our dingy little servants' hall”, Mr. Watkins says as soon as they've reached the bottom of the stairs.

Thomas looks around with interest and no little amount of jealousy. “If you call this dingy, you should see where I've been putting up. You've fallen on your feet and no mistake, Mr. Watkins”

“You could say that. I know I won't lose my position again because they can't pay me, that's for sure. And they're both very nice”

“That counts for something” It is an improvement on Watkins' former employers. Lord Flintshire is a pleasant fellow, but his wife makes up for that in every way.

“What about you, Mr. Barrow? Not working for Lord Grantham anymore?”

“Not anymore, no. In fact, I've only just decided to leave service altogether and emigrate to America”

“America – that's an adventure. And you're going all alone?”

“I'm going with Lady Sanderson's brother. That's why we're here, to say goodbye” There is an incredulous and somewhat suspicious look on Watkins' face and Thomas feels compelled to explain further. “He and I are old wartime pals and we've both realised that we need a change in our lives, so we thought, why not go together. It can't hurt to have someone you know with you in a foreign land”

There are a million things going through the butler's head, Thomas can tell, and he is eager to know which one of his misgivings he'll pronounce first. Some suspicion about two unmarried men being close enough to emigrate together? An offhand remark about Edward being blind? Some dreadful story about someone he knows failing in America? But Watkins nods curtly and dismisses all of that, to Thomas' surprise. “I wish you every good fortune. Reputedly, a man can go there with nothing and end up a millionaire”

They continue talking about America, about things they've heard about life there and about other places that have a similar allure for people wishing to “make it” until there is a ring at the front door and Watkins excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks thoughtful.

“What a strange coincidence. It is her Ladyship's other brother”

Thomas can feel the blood draining from his face and then surge back into his brain. He isn't sure what to do, his heart is telling him to dash up there and pull Edward out of the line of fire, but his head knows that'll only get both of them in trouble. He tries to listen to what Watkins says but he finds himself straining his ears for any sound coming from upstairs instead. When the bell rings, it shocks him half out of his chair. He waits for the butler to return, holding his breath and only letting it out when he is indeed told that his friend wishes to leave.

Edward and his sister are standing in the hall upstairs and through the open door to the drawing-room he catches a glimpse of Jack Courtenay, who looks a lot like his two siblings. In the right light, the two brothers could be mistaken for each other; Jack is a bit shorter and surrounded by an aggressive intensity.

“This is the last time I will ever see you”, Lady Sanderson says without even trying to hide her sadness.

“Probably”, Edward replies shakily.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, dear brother” She embraces him again, but cautiously because they both know Jack is watching.

“I wish the same to you, darling” Edward kisses her cheek.

Then they both turn to Thomas. “Mr. Barrow” Lady Sanderson shakes his hand. “I trust you will take good care of my brother”

“Of course, my Lady”

“I hope you will find happiness, both of you” There is no doubt she means _together_ and Thomas wonders if Edward has said anything of the sort to her. “Write to me, tell me how you're getting on”

“We will, as soon as we've settled”, Edward says, “And now, I'm afraid we must be going, as hard as it is”

They say their final goodbyes and step out of the warm hall into the falling night. When they turn the corner, Thomas looks over his shoulder to see Florence still standing on the stairs, trying to catch a last glimpse of her eldest brother before he vanishes in the rain and out of her life forever. On the way to the station, Edward says nothing and the faraway look on his face is beginning to worry Thomas when they get on the train to Oxford Circus. But suddenly, his friend is back in the present and there is even a little smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Thomas. I'm glad I had the opportunity to say goodbye to both of them. Leaving will be so much easier now that I know Florence is well and happy”

“I'm afraid we got a little more than I bargained for. I hope it wasn't too unpleasant to meet your brother” After everything Thomas has heard about Edward's family, it should have been horrible.

“I left before it came to that. Jack and I may be different on so many levels but we do have a few things in common: we bring out the worst in each other, we defend our own opinions until we draw blood and we wouldn't want to hurt Florence in any way. Luckily, the last one is the strongest now that we're grown up” There is a sober realism behind those words that probably took years to acquire.

“Good. I admit I was worried when Mr. Watkins told me he'd arrived”

“No need to worry. As I said, we're grown up … He's not a bad guy, in general. Believe it or not, we used to get along quite well for a while, especially when we were working on the farms in summer”

Thomas doesn't know which part of that statement surprises him most. “You've worked on a farm?”

“I did. And I took Jack with me quite a few times … Our father never cared for the practical side of things. He didn't think about how the tenants worked their farms as long as everything was efficient and ran smoothly. I was different, I thought if I'm to run this place and understand it properly, it's important to know how it feels to work on the land. Of course, there's more to the whole business than agriculture but I wanted to learn about that first. And I wanted to learn about the people and how they lived. Jack, I think, is somewhere between father and me on the subject. I daresay he'll do a decent job after he inherits”

Thomas can only shake his head in wonder about the lack of bitterness in Edward's words. And he takes the opportunity to clear a question he's been wondering about for a while. “Why did your brother not go to war, too? He wasn't too young, was he?”

“He was considered not fit for duty. You can't see it when he's walking slowly, but there's something wrong with his left leg and he can't run. An accident happened when he was a child” There is a grim look on Edward's face which prompts Thomas to suspect more behind this.

“What kind of accident?”

“He climbed a tree, a branch broke, he fell down and got injured. Of course my parents blamed me, which was a bit unfair, seeing as I fell down right next to him because I'd climbed up after him, trying to get him to come back down. But that's the way it's always been, Jack couldn't do anything wrong in their eyes” The bitterness has returned.

“I know the feeling. My mother was alright as far as I remember her, but my father always considered me his least favourite. And he didn't hesitate to say it, too. 'That weird, sulky boy' is one of the nicer things he called me” There is always a cold shudder attached to thoughts about him.

Edward is lost in thoughtful silence for a moment. “You know, this is the first time you've really spoken about your family. We seem to talk about mine a lot, but never about yours”

“I cut ties with them a long time ago” Thomas wants to be open and honest about everything but he can feel himself retreat already.

“We don't have to talk about them if it's painful for you. But if you ever feel like talking, you can, I'm here to listen. Always remember that”

“I will” A wave of tender feelings threatens to sweep Thomas away but he swallows it. They need to get off the train, anyway, and find their way to their respective connections. The clock strikes six somewhere. “I need to get back. I'll give them notice straight away, before dinner, and we can leave tomorrow or the day after that”

“Don't you want to see your friends again before we go?”

“I've already said goodbye once this year, I can't see the point in going up there and doing it again”, Thomas says but he doesn't mean it. The fact is, it would be too hard for him to do it again and he might waver in his resolution to leave right now and probably put it off and make it one of those long and agonizing goodbyes. He might never see them again …

“I understand” Edward has that knowing smile on his face which means he's looked through him again like it's absolutely no effort. The man who can't see appears to be the only person in the world who sees Thomas like he really is. 

“I'll write to them today, explaining where I'm going. And to Lady Edith, as well. She kindly invited me to her wedding, so I have to let her know I'm not coming and I want to wish her all the best”

“Very well, I'll be ready by tomorrow, then”

“What about your friends? Don't you need some time to take leave of them? I wouldn't want to rush you” From what Thomas has gathered, Edward has quite a lot of friends here in London.

“They know I'm planning to leave some day. I'll go talk to the people who are important to me tonight … You can come over as early as you like tomorrow morning and then we'll get the first possible train to Southampton”

Thomas sees him off, his heart and his head in turmoil. Once he's spoken to his employers, it will be final, there'll be no going back. It is a feeling like jumping off a cliff and he'll be glad when it's over and they're out of London for good.

 


	3. Chapter 3

~26th December 1925~

Thomas hasn't slept well, if at all. In fact, he spent most of the night listening to the steady patter of the rain and wondering what Edward might be doing and if it would be very wrong to just grab his suitcase and go to him right now. Once, at about three o'clock, Thomas had crept downstairs to the telephone but he didn't dare try to call Edward's house. Someone else might answer it, someone very grumpy about being woken up. So, when the grey morning light finally started climbing above the rooftops, he had been relieved that the night – probably his last night in England – was finally over. He had re-packed his suitcase again, trying to fit everything in more neatly and efficiently, had counted his money again, had performed his last duties as a butler and said farewell to the old lady and gentleman and his old life. On his way to Edward's place, he had taken a few detours to look at London in her Christmas attire a little more and let go of the past a little more, but it didn't work, because this is not his home and there is not so much attached to it. He had done his fair share of leaving and letting go when he left Downton last summer. And this feels nothing like leaving Manchester half an age ago when he was just a boy with a dream of making it to a prestigious position in service no matter the cost. Back then, he took the first staggering steps out into the big world – now, that particular world has lost its appeal and it is time to take the next staggering steps into a bigger one.

When he reaches the door, he is starting to feel the excitement and that special kind of anxiety again but it still seems quite unreal to be leaving for good. Edward is not in such a sprightly mood, either. “Good morning. I'm almost ready”, he mumbles as he lets Thomas into the apartment that is void of life and any human touch now that Edward's things are packed. He looks like he hasn't slept more than an hour or two. “I sold the wireless last night, so we'll have a little more money to fall back on. And I always have some savings stored away for the times when I can't find a job quickly”

“We should probably pool it and I'll keep a list of all our spendings”

“That sounds reasonable. But we should split it again evenly, so if one of us is stolen from, it won't all be gone at once”

They pile all their money on the table and Thomas notices that, despite his somewhat dismal living conditions, Edward's contribution is substantially larger than his own, even without the money for the wireless which he has to extract from the bottom of his suitcase first. Thomas' finances had never recovered from that “therapy” he had spent all his savings on last year. This is the kind of thing that will hopefully stop mattering once they have begun their journey and are free of all the social issues that divide them still and the shadow of class disparity lingering in Thomas' head. He counts it all out and is somewhat calmer afterwards because it is a pretty penny and should get them to the other side of the globe a little more comfortably than he had imagined. He hands half of the money back to Edward.

“Now, that's sorted. Anything else we need to take care of?”

“I don't think so … I'm quite nervous, to be honest. Didn't think I would be” Edward picks at the cuffs of his sleeves, a habit of his Thomas still remembers.

“Me, too … We should leave as long as we're determined” And before anything happens that might stop their escape before it has truly begun.

“Quite right” Edward lifts his suitcase. “I'm sure I have all the documents but could you do me a favour and check that I haven't left anything important?”

Thomas takes a tour of the dreary rooms but doesn't find anything. They leave with their sparse belongings, lock the door and put the key in the neighbours' postbox. When they step onto the street, the bells of some nearby church or two are tolling and it is raining again. In front of the ruin of the house next door, two men with umbrellas and clipboards are standing, looking thoughtfully at the charred remains of the façade, comparing the options of knocking it down and building a new one or building it back up the way it was before. The past or the future – isn't that everyone's challenge?

During the short trip to Waterloo Station, Thomas feels like they've overcome that challenge and decided to go for the future, literally with bag and baggage. Theirs may not come with skyscrapers and modern inventions, but it is the future alright. The age of servants and estates is ending, Thomas has come to terms with that, and he would've ended up without a job before long, anyway. This way, at least he got a head-start. And a companion, too. Speaking of which – Edward is very jumpy and very tense this morning.

“So, that's stage one finished”, he says and fidgets in his seat as the train pulls out of the station. It is hard to read his expression properly behind the sunglasses.

“Leaving London. Feels weird, doesn't it? … What's wrong? You're so … I don't know. Are you having doubts?” Wouldn't that be the worst thing right now? Thomas has gathered his courage and left and now Edward decides to back out …

“Not really. I'm just … afraid something unpredictable will happen that will keep us here, after all. Or that we might get sent back when we try to get off the boat in New York”

That takes one weight off Thomas' shoulders but adds to the other one. “To be perfectly honest, I've had the same thoughts. But why should they turn us away? I had a tiny look at the papers earlier. Your connection at the embassy didn't just fill out forms, he also wrote some sort of reference letter. So we should be fine on that end”

“But you're also worried about this end” It's not a question and it doesn't help to hear it spoken out loud. “I have the dreadful feeling that one or both of us might be arrested or something”

“So do I. But let's be realistic. Unless there's something you're not telling me, I don't see why we should be arrested” After all, they're not involved in any secret ploy to start a revolution or anything like that, they're not in any disgraced political party …

Edward fidgets again and bites his lip. “Well, there are … circumstances beyond our control”

“But who would do that? And why now?” Thomas thinks of the one time he almost ended up in prison for _that_ , during the whole mess with Jimmy.

“I don't trust Jack further than I could throw him. And I shouldn't say more, it'll be tempting fate” If he goes on like this, Edward will ruin the sleeves of his only coat before they even get on the boat.

“Jack? Wouldn't he prefer to see you sail to the other end of the world?”

“Maybe … Anyway, we should talk about something else”

But they can't seem to steer their thoughts away from the matter, a little like the train going on the tracks, on and on.

“Tell me what's outside the window”, Edward suddenly says.

“What?”

“Only if you want to. It might help occupy both our minds … Also, your voice is very soothing to me” He turns away at the last words, almost like he is embarrassed to admit it.

So Thomas tells him what he sees, from the last outskirts of London itself to the villages interspersed with parklands that will probably be swallowed up by the big city some day soon, across the rolling hills under sunny clear skies until they get to Winchester. He doesn't know what to say and what not to say; they are so near Edward's former home, he doesn't even have to look at his friend to realise his discomfort. It is time to change the subject to more practical things.

“Listen, something's occurred to me: How will the man in Hawai'i know that we're coming? Did you write to him?”

“I didn't, it would've taken too long. I telegraphed a friend in New York to get the message to him not to look for new tenants just yet. I'll telegraph that friend again before we sail and he'll make sure the caretaker knows what the plan is”

“Wouldn't it be so much easier if we could just telephone him? But I suppose it'll be a few decades before anyone can do that” Thomas can easily imagine it, after all he clearly remembers the time when telephones were uncommon and can compare that to the way it is now.

“Probably. I've heard there's been progress on radio communications lately … It would make the world a smaller place if you could just call anyone in America and talk to them instead of waiting for a day for a telegraph message to be delivered, let alone the weeks it takes to exchange letters”

“I wonder if it'll happen in our lifetimes” A lot of technological advances have happened since Thomas was a boy and the height of engineering were the electric trams he and his brothers tried to outrun.

“You never know. Look at how airplanes have come along and then there's that thing they call the television”

“I'd like to fly in an airplane, but I'm not sure it'll ever be the common thing to do or affordable to everyone. Also, seeing how seasick I get, it might not be such a good idea” A surge of dread about the upcoming journey turns his stomach.

“I did fly once. I had a cousin in the RFC and he took me up on some of his training flights at Brooklands, right at the start of the war. They needed an extra pair of hands that day to test the wireless equipment, the soldier who was supposed to fly with him got ill and everyone else was busy doing other things. I was really lucky” Edward is lost in memories for a moment.

“What was it like, flying?”

“It's quite an eerie feeling, to be honest. You feel lighter, in a way, but not like you're floating because the floor of the plane is under your feet. And then there's the wind knocking you about every now and then like the waves on a ship. It's a feeling of freedom and at the same time it feels incredibly unsafe. Of course the view was spectacular and I wouldn't have missed this experience for anything … It was exhilarating and really, really terrifying but kind of in a good way, if you know what I mean”

It certainly doesn't sound like something Thomas would enjoy very much. “I can kind of imagine, though I have nothing much to compare it to”

A new passenger comes in and sits on the other side of the aisle and that ends the conversation again and plunges them back into tense silence. At some point, Thomas borrows the man's newspaper and the three of them chat about the goings-on for a while. So passes the time to Southampton, until the train stops with screeching brakes and they collect their bags and get out.

The first steps feel weird, like walking on empty air. But Thomas has to pull himself together and concentrate for both of them. While in London, Edward had found his way so securely, Thomas had started to wonder if parts of his eyesight had been restored since 1917. But it turned out he still is completely blind and just has an extraordinary memory, which he'd probably developed when he learned to play the piano as a child. Additionally, he cannot be distracted by new buildings in slightly familiar places or even a change in advertising billboards that might confuse a seeing person when visiting a part of the city they don't go to every day. The streets and Underground stations don't change as easily, so Edward could rely on distance, feeling and the sound of church-bells and other things. Here, on the docks in Southampton, where he'd last been about ten years ago, things are different. He holds on to Thomas' arm nervously and it is up to Thomas alone to find a sales office for Atlantic crossings.

The first two are booked out for the next week in their price-range but the third one seems promising.

“If you don't mind sharing a cabin with two or more other people, I'm sure I can find a space for you”, the young woman in maritime clothing behind the counter says in a broad American accent.

“We don't mind at all. It's not such a long journey”, Thomas replies in his most charming and friendly way. Edward is standing next to him, wearing his sunglasses despite the rain and trying to be invisible.

The clerk looks them up and down with a suspicious glance, then starts checking her shipping lists. “If that's all the baggage you have, I can put you on the next ship. It leaves this afternoon”

Three hours later, Thomas watches the Southampton docks shrink away across the water disturbed by the trail of the rumbling steam engines. He thought he'd feel free as soon as the ship left the port, but it feels like a rope is still attached to him, linking him with the shore, paying out further and further as they make their way along the Southern coast past the Isle of Wight and the scraggy grey cliffs. The whole Devon coast passes as a shadow in the distance, while Thomas tries to let go of all the bad memories he has acquired in the land that now lies beyond so many miles of hills, rivers and forests. But he can't really let them go. Aren't they what makes him who he is now? But still, it feels like the rope could pull him back all the way to Southampton if he doesn't say goodbye once and for all before he runs out of shoreline.

“Are you alright?”, Edward whispers and steps a little closer so their arms touch inconspicuously. Even through the layers and layers of fabric, Thomas can feel his warmth. “You haven't said anything for hours”

“Well, neither have you … I'm trying to make peace with it. England, I mean. While I can still see it”

“That's not an easy task. I've been trying myself … I wonder if I'll feel it when we've passed the last bit of it”

“I'll tell you when we have”

They wait, only speaking now and then, holding on to their scarves and their caps against the breeze, standing as close as they can without attracting unwanted attention. And so fades Cornwall on the horizon and a little while later, when night has fallen, Bishop Rock Lighthouse waves them off, the last piece of British land between them and a new life, the end of the rope. Thomas finds himself at peace – it is over, it is over forever, if he wants it to be. It takes him all his effort not to weep. When a bright speck of light shoots across the dark sky, he can't stop a little gasp. _Please, let us be happy._

“What is it, what's happened?”, Edward asks and grasps his hand for a moment.

“I just saw a shooting-star” They are standing in a relatively dark part of the deck, so he dares reach out and take Edward's hand again. “And we've just passed the Scilly Isles"

“Did you make a wish?”

“I did, one for both of us. Not sure if I wished upon the shooting-star or the Scilly Isles”

Edward is silent for a moment and he squeezes Thomas' hand. “You're not regretting it, are you?”

“Not yet. Ask me again, in a year”

“I will … And now, if you've said your goodbyes, we should finally go inside before either of us catches a cold”

They walk towards the warm light coming from the doors and Thomas only remembers in the last second to let go of Edward's hand before they step into the corridor that leads below decks.

 


	4. Chapter 4

~1st January 1926~

New York emerged on the horizon last night just in time to see the fireworks. On New Year's Day, the city is covered by a thin layer of snow and a biting cold wind is blowing. Through a window in one of the corridors, Thomas catches a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, her robes white with frost and icicles twinkling on her torch. He is glad that the journey is over and soon he'll have solid ground under his feet again – especially after he'd had a little too much to drink last night. Edward, who is standing next to him, doesn't look like he is feeling much better. At some point during the very lively party below decks he had commandeered the piano in the recreation room and used all his experience playing in London bars to entertain the passengers and earn a few quid in tips. Thomas had not been able to take his eyes off him for more than ten seconds – it was so fascinating to see that side of him.

But now it's morning and their nervousness is the leading power again. The ship docks at the port of New York and as soon as the gangway is attached, the passengers start filing onto American soil through a little checkpoint. Thomas and Edward are washed along in the steady current of people until they are facing a tired-looking immigration officer. Thomas hands him the papers, the letter of recommendation lying on top and he doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow. “Welcome to America”, is all he says as he stamps their passports. Thomas is so relieved, it is hard to put into words.

“That went well”, Edward can barely contain his excitement, “What now?”

“Now, we'll go on a train for a while” Thomas has a map of the United States, so they'll always know if the next town they're going to is actually in the western direction. It'll be quite a puzzle until they get to the opposite coast. 

They take the subway train from Court Street that goes through a tunnel under the East River and go up to Times Square, from there it's a short walk to Grand Central Station. As soon as they're in the city, it feels like they're speeding. Thomas had noticed this phenomenon the last time he was here – he gets it in London, too, but it's not so bad there. After so many years in the quiet Yorkshire countryside, it is not something he feels entirely comfortable with. Hopefully, wherever they'll be living in Hawai'i will be peaceful and less hectic. What he could find out in the short time prior to their departure sounds promising.

Navigating Grand Central Station takes all his attention. The vaulted halls with their chandeliers and painted ceiling would do any mansion justice as a ballroom except that the paint is beginning to be covered in soot and the floor is tainted by hundreds of salty footprints. In the ticket-office, they are told that it is in fact possible to get through-tickets to California; they get sent from one vendor to the next until they finally find the one that sells them. Then, they barely have time to buy some emergency provisions for the journey before the train to Chicago leaves. It pulls out of Manhattan around mid-day and the wintery forests start unfolding on the other side of the window before long.

“These railways are one of the many reasons why we're even here. Uncle Harry made most of his money with American railway bonds in the '80s. Unfortunately, he lost most of his money because he was always better at spending it than making it. But while he was well off, he travelled the whole world”, Edward says while the State of Pennsylvania passes outside.

“He sounds like one of the great explorers of the old days, sailing across the ocean and looking for the South continent” Thomas finds he'd like to have met him.

“He was rather. At least, that's what I think. My father always said the only things his uncle wanted were drink and women, but I never believed it. The stories he told of all the places he had seen – there was so much detail and passion when he talked or wrote about it. He can't have been drunk and distracted all the time” Edward talks about his great-uncle with nothing but fondness and it seems he was something of a substitute grandfather for him.

“So, how did he get to Hawai'i?”

“He had visited a few times and one day, he decided that he liked it enough to stay and he managed to make a moderate living out of working for one of the sugar companies. That was five years before his death, right in the middle of the war”

“I know it's rude to ask, but … How did he die?”

“It's alright … The thing is, I'm not entirely sure how. It was either some kind of tropical disease or his heart or it might have been something else entirely, in the end. All I know is, we suddenly received a telegram without warning. He was only 67. But then again, all men in my family seem to die pretty young. My grandfather was 52 when he had a stroke; that happened the year I was born. His other two brothers were already long gone”

“That can't be reassuring for you” And it isn't for Thomas, either. This is the kind of thing he'd rather not know.

“I suppose I stand quite a good chance. Everyone in my mother's family lived to an old age, except herself. She died in 1920, the same year as Uncle Harry”

“What was she like, your mother?” Edward doesn't talk about her much and while Thomas tries not to be too curious, this is too good an opportunity to miss.

“She wasn't unkind. Well, she wasn't until I was eighteen and finally told them about my true nature. After that, she was just as bad as the old man … No, my mother was … indifferent – I believe that's the right word. She was very young when she married my father, only seventeen, and he was almost ten years older. His first fiancée had died shortly before. Mother probably wasn't ready to have children but of course it happened anyway. And there I suddenly was and she had no idea what to do. When Jack was born she'd had some experience and she could handle it better. Florence she loved dearly from the start … I don't hold those early years against her and I don't begrudge Florence all the attention she got. But I was disappointed when Mother didn't stick up for me about David”

“What made you think she would?”

“Foolish boy's hope, I guess. I never had much of a relationship with her but that was the day it truly ended”

“There are too many of those cold parents around. They probably think they're teaching us something about life and the cruel world” Thomas had always admired Lord and Lady Grantham's loving relationship with their daughters, it was so unlike anything he'd seen before. And the next generation does it even better. Edward and Florence, what little he's seen of them, have the same sort of bond despite growing up in a cold family. And speaking about her – “I've been wondering: Is Florence aware of … the reason for everything?” Thomas doesn't dare say it in public although the people across from them are sleeping and probably wouldn't understand a word across the rattle of the train.

“She is. Figured it out herself when she was only fourteen, clever girl. And, you saw her, she doesn't have the slightest problem with it … What about your siblings? Do any of them know?”

“My older sister Kate definitely knew about it then. Francis, too, I think. And because they were twins and shared everything, Peter was probably in on it. Colin and Agnes didn't know, they were too young. The others might have told them later, when they were older. But I doubt they talked about me much; they treated me like I was dead” He had kept sporadic contact with Kate in the first years, but after that it was only Christmas cards with a few meaningless lines. They had written him out of the family completely. “Some three years ago, I was in the area and … I went to visit. Kate was nice enough and tried to be normal. The twins live in other cities now, so they weren't there and Colin only looked in on his way home; he wasn't exactly happy to see me. And Agnes … didn't know me. She flat-out refused to believe that she had another brother she couldn't remember”

“I am sorry, that must've been awful”

“It was. She was always my favourite, you know. Another thing my father destroyed when he threw me out on the streets when I was only sixteen years old” That was a desperate day and when he thinks about it, he can still feel the pavement under his hands and knees, the rain beating down and the blood running across his face.

“Did you see him while you were there?”

“Luckily, I didn't. Him and Kate's family don't live in the same house, just very close to each other, and I left before supper to avoid him … I probably should've faced him, but it's too late now” In fact, he'd practically fled when Kate mentioned that their father was coming over to eat with them.

Edward puts his hand on Thomas' knee. “Maybe you should have. Here's something I've been wondering about: Have you put him behind you or are you just keeping your feelings locked up?”

Thomas gently pushes his hand away and wonders if he's always this incautious. “Alright, this is not something we should talk about in public”

“No, you're right. I'm sorry … If it's the second one, maybe you should write to him and make an ending for yourself. He can't touch you now, he's far away … That's all I'll say about it, don't worry”

“That's not such a bad idea, to be honest” And if he posts the letter somewhere along the way, no-one will ever know where he's gone as long as he doesn't want them to. 

It takes Thomas quite a while to compose this letter to his father and another one to Kate, taking time every now and then to recover from the emotions and talk to Edward and the other travellers about other things. The Great Lakes and the brand-new Chicago Union Station are far behind and he has used the vast expanse of the dry and windswept plains and re-occurring remains of ghost towns as inspiration for his final words of farewell to his family. It is a weird, in-between kind of place, just like Thomas has been in an in-between kind of state ever since the last piece of English shoreline had faded from sight. This position makes him see the past so much clearer and there is nothing now holding him back from telling his father exactly in how many ways he considers him a worthless piece of scum and how he had hated the old man from the moment he realised that he was mistreating his mother and had continued to hate him more each day. With his mercilessly harsh world-view, under the disguise of religion, he would've felt right at home in the 18th century, conducting a witch trial. He didn't have any witches, so he imposed his rigid ideology on his family and of course he found fault and prosecuted it.

The more Thomas thinks about it, the less he holds a grudge against their mother and, especially, Kate. They may not have stood up for him against their father and the twins but he can see now that they did it to avoid turning their own lives into even more of a living hell. Thomas knows he would've done the same in that position. He probably would've been unkind to the outcast to side with the stronger party in the battle, but Kate never was. She was always good to him and that might just be the reason why he turned out to have a good side, as well – Kate taught him how. From the age of fifteen, she had to look after the whole family and she did a good job, considering the circumstances. She seemed to be a loving mother when Thomas saw her last and he is sure, if one of her sons turns out to be like him, she will be supportive and not cast him out. She was the only person who made their house a home and is the only family-member he might miss at some point. It took half his life, but he has forgiven her.

When the letters are finished, Thomas feels a huge relief. He has finally shed the last millstone of “old life” weighing him down and he promises himself that he has also shed the last tears about all of it. It is over. His father's hard hands do not reach the plains of America and will not reach the shores of Hawai'i. Thomas looks around like one woken from a dream, sees all the little things for the first time – the dirty streaks of single raindrops on the train windows, the scuffed boots of the people sitting opposite, the rocks and scraggy bushes of the landscape outside. And when dusk falls, in the lamplight he sees their image mirrored, melting into this unreal land speeding past: Edward, asleep, bundled up in his coat and scarf, all the sharp edges of the past years smoothed out; Thomas beside him, the grim, morose look he has cultivated during most of his adult life fading into something young and hopeful again. He has never felt less afraid or less ashamed, as far as he can remember. And suddenly, all of it is real for the first time and they are truly heading for a new life.

Past abandoned coal mines and working farms the train goes towards the Rocky Mountains. They don't see much of Denver when they change trains except the illuminated names of places down the street in front of the station and an arch that says “Welcome” on one side and something else Thomas can't make out in this light on the other. The mountain ridge looms behind the city, just visible as a shadow in the last light of the evening. The snow is so deep that it flows over the top of their shoes and it is so cold they get back inside quickly after posting the letters. The train leaves Denver and continues to climb up the mountains in the dark and so begins the last stage of their land-journey west.

 


	5. Chapter 5

~13th January 1926~

The ship is steaming across the Pacific and Thomas is beginning to wonder if it will ever be over. Seven days have passed since they sailed from the Port of San Francisco and it might have well been seven weeks. Ever since they were subject to some choppy seas on the evening of the second day, Thomas has not been able to regain his balance. He has tried staring fixedly at something that doesn't move but it was no use. Remembering and imagining the strong, steady landscape of the Rocky Mountains or the desert-like hills and valleys of Nevada has helped a bit but it took him back to the fields, moors and rivers of Yorkshire in the end, which sparked some miserable thoughts about all of this being a mistake and that horrible feeling, which he has come to identify as homesickness, took hold for a while. All he can do is distract himself by focussing on the people around him.

There are some Portuguese workers sharing their cabin. They've apparently been trying their luck in California for a few months and have decided to start over in Hawai'i now. That's what Edward has gathered, at least. He has started to pick up their language while Thomas was either asleep or feeling sick and lying in the bunk next to him. (Edward has hardly left his side while he's been ill and has been holding his hand and saying soothing and encouraging things, regardless of what the people around them might think). These are not the first immigrants they've met. In fact, they shared the carriage on the train from Denver to Salt Lake City with some German farmers who played a lot of card-games; they've come across many Irish at every stage of the journey and a fair share of Eastern Europeans as well. While few of them settled in without any problems, they all seemed happy and content with their new lives in America and none of them desperately wanted to go back to their old homes. This gives Thomas and Edward a great deal of confidence for their own future.

If only this wretched boat would touch shore. In that moment, there are cries of joy coming from upstairs. One of the Portuguese comes in a few seconds later and says something excitedly. “I think he said, we've arrived. Or almost. Anyway, he definitely said something about 'land' … Do you want to go up and see it?”, Edward says, and Thomas is too curious to listen to his protesting body. It takes them a few minutes to make their way to the deck – and there it is. A mountain range, emerald green and encircled by a crown of clouds, stands above the calm deep-blue water. In front of the sheer rock walls, a plain dotted with buildings comes into sight, linked to the ocean by two bays with white sand and gently rolling waves. They pass what looks like the tip of the island, where a short white lighthouse with a red roof guides travellers through the channel between O'ahu and its' neighbour (which Thomas can't remember the name of), that is flat on one side but changes into high cliffs on the further shore; it lies across the horizon like the single stroke of a paintbrush. Seagulls and other birds soar through the slightly clouded sky; one of them, a white bird with a curiously long red tail-feather, dances around the boat like it is welcoming the new arrivals. The bowl-shape of an extinguished volcano and a narrow little bay pass by and now they can see a piece of shoreline ending in another volcano. The mountains lie in folds, trickle down like the icing on a cake, until they melt into the turquoise ocean. It is not like other shorelines Thomas has seen – they always had dramatic cliffs like fortresses shaped to protect the land – this looks much more harmonious and calm. Behind it, the city of Honolulu comes into view, made up mostly of small residential houses, the odd official building strewn in – ranging from a disconcertingly English cathedral to a colonial Palace – among lots of green, thinning out into fields and the mountains. There is something tidy and distinctly American about the city, far away from any European place that had hundreds of years to grow into a disorderly array of alleys, markets, streets and squares.

Thomas wishes he was more of a poet, so he could do the island justice while he describes it to Edward. It is hard to put into words just how _different_ it all looks. The ship pulls into the harbour and Thomas could cry with relief. He doesn't, of course; he has to concentrate on getting all their things and accomplishing the last few yards of their journey safely. Later, there'll be time to breathe deeply and realize where they are. Edward seems to be thinking along the same lines – he is obviously excited but keeping it for later.

The weather has been getting warmer and more humid every day. On the ocean, there was a steady breeze but now that they've reached land, it only comes up now and again and the heat is like a standing water engulfing everything. As soon as they're off the ship, they send a boy with a message to Mr. Thompson, the caretaker, to meet them on the pier in two hours – that should give Thomas enough time to get over his seasickness.

The port of Honolulu is busy with tourists and immigrants. There are stalls selling exotic-looking fruit, sailors strolling around in their white uniforms and barefooted youngsters hoping to earn a few pennies by helping rich tourists with their suitcases. Cars and trolleybuses bumble through the throng of newcomers and sightseers and it is a pretty normal kind of chaos.

Thomas and Edward pass the time by watching and listening to the life unfolding around them and by eating some delicious Chinese soup. When the clock strikes three, they make their way back to the pier, which is now almost empty, and makes it easier for them to find Mr. Thompson. He is a chubby middle-aged English lawyer, carrying a parasol and a stack of loose papers which he shifts around from one arm to the other. He insists on all the paperwork first and when it is done, his face lights up visibly.

“Young man, it is nice to meet you at last”, he says to Edward – they had been exchanging the odd letter since 'Uncle Harry' died.

“And it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson. I am grateful for how you've looked after my uncle's affairs and my own. I hope that we can continue to do business together”

“Of course, of course … Now, you gentlemen look rather tired. It is a long journey from where you started out. I shall take you to your house and you can put your feet up”

They get into his car and drive inland and up a gentle hill for a while. There is some traffic but not as much as they'd seen in other cities they'd passed through. The closer they get to their new home, the calmer the surroundings become. New houses are being built in the spaces between the few existing ones. That dark green mountain ridge looms up in front and through the back-window there is a view of down-town Honolulu and the ocean dotted with surfers and swimmers. In the distance beyond the fields, the few hotels of Waikiki stand out in front of that extinguished volcano called the Diamond Head – that is what Mr. Thompson tells them. They stop at last, in front of a property that has a nice view across the surrounding area.

The house is a low-roofed one-story wooden building, raised off the ground three feet or so on little stilts. The mint blue paint is faded and cracked and peeling off in places but there are two wicker-chairs on the porch and a little tree with beautiful white blossoms and another one with red ones are casting some shade. Thomas thinks, the red ones are called hibiscus but he's not entirely sure. Overall, there is a homely feel to it and Thomas can see himself coming back here after a hard day's work and sit on the porch to watch the sunset.

“So, what's it like? I saw a photo my uncle sent me when it was quite new but I don't really remember much about it”, Edward asks.

“It's nice. I think we'll be very comfortable once we've settled”

“Here is your key, then”, Mr. Thompson says and hands it over, “You know, old Mr. Courtenay always knew one day you'd come here”

“Did he really?”

“He talked about you often. He was a very kind and wise man” There is a strange tone in the lawyer's voice.

“He was” Edward smiles fondly in remembrance. “And I miss him, too”

“Now, I will leave you to it. Remember, if you have any questions or you need anything, just give me a shout” With one last suspicious glance, the man leaves.

“Let's go inside”, Thomas says. They've attracted quite a crowd of curious brown-skinned children who seem questioning yet friendly. One boy in particular stands out – he is a handsome child with black curly hair and he looks at them like he has them figured out completely.

Thomas takes Edward's arm and leads him up the front steps and in through the door. The inside of the house is dusky because the blinds are drawn and there's a light breeze stirring up the afternoon heat and wafting the sweet smell of those white blossoms in. The sparse furniture matches the chairs on the porch and it looks used but still well. Oh yes, they'll be comfortable.

With a start and a tingle on his spine, Thomas realises this is the first time they've been alone together since leaving London. All of his feelings for Edward come crashing down on him like one of those dreaded tsunami waves. It is like he suddenly has the right to feel like this, now that they're in the safety of this house. Their own house. Home.

“Are we alone?”, Edward asks like he can read his thoughts.

“Yes” Thomas doesn't trust his voice to say more than this.

“Finally”, Edward sighs and there's a husky tone in that word Thomas has not heard from him before. He steps up and lets his hands wander up Thomas' arms, along his shoulders until they rest on the sides of his face. There he stops, bites his lip and seems to want to pull away. “I hope I'm not wrong about this. I'm not sure I could bear it if I was”

“Stop doubting and kiss me already”, Thomas whispers.

With a smile, Edward closes the distance between them and their lips meet, because this is the way it is supposed to be, the moment they've been steering towards since 1917. The earth stops for a minute, then picks up speed again, making Thomas' knees so unsteady he has to hold on to Edward with all the strength he has so he doesn't fall to the floor then and there. He has never felt such relief, felt so light, like every cell of his body might float away. From their lips, a radiant warmth spreads, encloses Thomas' heart like a tender hand. They desperately hang on to each other, kissing, grasping, trying to be as close as possible until they are so breathless they can only stand there and embrace and make sure this is actually real and not a tropical fever dream. All the cares of the world have faded and in this moment, the past doesn't matter and nor does the future. Once Thomas is sure that neither of them is going to break down and sob, he takes Edward's hand and leads him to one of the bedrooms without another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two or three of what I call "tie-in" fics chronologically taking place after this chapter and before the next. None of those are really finished, though ...


	6. Chapter 6

~About a year later~

Thomas walks down the road in the stifling late afternoon heat. The uneven surface shimmers like puddles in the distance but there are no actual puddles left from this morning's heavy rain (The reason why he hitched a ride with a neighbour instead of driving the second-hand motorbike he's recently acquired). A lone bird is singing and there is the smell of dust and plumeria in the air. There's also the sea and that underlying hint of rot from dead plants and standing water. It is hot and humid and it feels just like being in the washhouse. Thomas has never felt so at home.

If anyone had told him a year ago that he'd ever be so happy, he would've laughed right in their face and made one of his trademark mean remarks. The thing is, he hasn't been mean to anyone for a long time and it feels so good. It is like he was reborn after trying to take his own life and he has been getting up as a better man each day ever since. It took a long time, an unhappy stint as a butler and a journey of eight and a half thousand miles to finally truly become that man and do the gift of this second chance justice.

Thomas works at the Moana Hotel, has risen from unremarkable nondescript employee to most trusted and highest-ranking receptionist within a few months. It is not so different from being a butler – there's less aristocratic ceremony and the tourists tip more. And of course, you don't serve a “family” but a company and its ever-changing guests. Which is better, in a way, because there are less emotions involved and you can walk away once your shift is over. Thomas gets along well with the other employees, especially the ones working below him. He makes a point of taking care of the younger staff, so much so that they call him “Papa Barrow” behind his back, which he doesn't mind. People respect him and know him to be a decent man, which is still new for him.

Edward is quite well-known around the area, as well. Partly, because he has become somewhat involved in the rights of the local plantation workers (the idea being that a white English gentleman might be able to speak to the employers on a different level) and partly because he gives English lessons to all the workers and their children who are willing to learn – for free. “I can't take anything from them, they barely have enough for themselves”, he always says. He gladly accepts dinner invitations, though, which leads to them hardly spending any money on food and being treated to delicious dishes from around the world every other day. He also gives piano-lessons to the wives and children of richer families – who find it kind of fancy to have a blind piano-teacher – and earns a fair bit of money, plus he always comes home with the latest gossip from the community. And that community loves him for being the most unassuming and open-minded person.

They have both settled in so well, their old lives are only a memory most of the time. Sometimes, they even catch themselves speaking the local pidgin to each other when they're alone. Thomas tries to maintain his British accent as best he can, though – the people at the hotel keep telling him how sophisticated it sounds, although to himself it's only Northern working-class. Americans can be weird like that, nostalgic for an Old Europe many of them had never seen up close, but Thomas rather likes that about them. It makes him feel normal whenever he himself is nostalgic and feeling very British.

Neither he nor Edward have ever felt like outsiders here. The native Hawaiians are friendly and generous and although some of them might call them _haole_ and treat them like intruders (which, truth be told, they are) at least they're a part of a whole community of intruders. And this community is much more diverse than it ever could be in rural England. There are the Hawaiians and their fascinating spiritual heritage and exotic culture, a sharp contrast to the Americans with their military and their modernism. Chinese and Japanese have brought their traditions with them and there are also Latin Americans and several different European nationalities. More keep arriving, seeking their fortune and a better life or an adventure. There is always something new to discover. Sometimes, Thomas and Edward go down to the harbour or walk along one of the streets lined with lots of little shops and stalls, just to soak up the different lifestyles.

England is so far away, not only physically but on every level. Thomas receives the odd letter from Downton, telling him how the children are getting on and the struggle to find a new butler now that Mr. Carson's illness is worse. Once, they asked if he'd ever consider coming back, which gave him some satisfaction, but didn't tempt him for more than a moment. He doesn't want aristocratic grandeur he'll never get to touch, doesn't want his work and his life to be under the same roof. Now that he's broken free of it, he'll never be able to go back to that kind of life. He wonders how he could stand it for so long. These days, he takes off his solemn work personality with the livery, goes back home to Edward, to their very own home, and can do and say whatever pleases him without the watchful eye of anyone. This is a place where he can be his light-hearted, gentle and free spirited self without losing anyone's esteem, without being afraid. Where he can also safely have his dark sides.

Those still come and go. Some days, Thomas can hardly get out of bed. Everything feels so pointless, so without reason and future, he cannot find the energy to invest in it. These are the days when the past comes alive and he has to go through it all over and over again, feel the pain again, the rejection and loneliness. It is Edward then who runs down the road to telephone the hotel and tell them he's not coming, who makes him tea and patiently persuades him to eat at least something, who holds him when his whole body is racked with sobs and all Thomas wants to do is scream until the pain stops and the black pit in his heart turns to light again. It is Edward who makes up stories to distract him, knows just how to touch him and what to say to soothe him, who keeps him alive.

Thomas does not feel guilty anymore about putting him through this because he knows sooner or later Edward will be in the same position, crying, hiding under the bedsheets, doubting his whole existence in Thomas' arms, and that will make them even. Not that they need to keep count. They _are_ even, completely and utterly equal in this relationship and their love for each other. And they are happy, no matter what. The nightmares may still come sometimes, taking them back to the cold mud or the colder homes of their fathers or every other terrible place either of them has been, but when they wake up next to each other in the balmy tropical breeze, all is well and theirs is a world filled with warmth, love and laughter.

They know better than most that there is a darkness in everyone and that there are still a lot of feelings and memories buried and waiting for one of those black days to come to the surface. In the past year they have learnt to let that happen instead of trying to keep the feelings buried and watch them burn a hole into one's soul. If you walk through the darkness long enough, sooner or later you'll come back into the light, that is an essential discovery they have made.

They often remember that rainy November night in London when trusting each other had still felt like walking on thin ice and a decently happy life had been a distant idea. It seems like a lifetime ago and it still makes them stop in wonder at how completely everything has changed. Eight and a half thousand miles, three-hundred and sixty-four days – between now and London. They ran into the unknown and have arrived home.

A boy is just leaving their house when Thomas turns the corner. It is Vasco Sunyer, the one that stuck out from the crowd of children when they first arrived and has become a part of their family and the best student Edward has. (They are all bright, but Vasco is by far the fastest study) His family had come from Portugal just a little while before Thomas and Edward and lives up the road in a plantation-owned rental. Vasco spends almost all his free time at their house because his own is overcrowded with siblings and relatives – it reminds Thomas of his own childhood – and his mother pays him little to no attention anyway. He is thirteen and soon his interests will probably shift to girls and learning to drive. Soon after that, he'll have to decide what to do with his life and slip away into adulthood. But for now, he is a smiling, friendly and inspiring part of their days. Vasco waves at Thomas from afar, then takes off down the road to his house.

When Thomas reaches home and climbs the porch steps a few minutes later, he finds Edward dozing in the hammock they have put up, his long legs stretched out and a peaceful expression on his face, looking to all the world like a normal man. He is still a bit too pale after recovering from a chest-infection. His health is generally not the best; along with the loss of his eyesight he had suffered damage to his lungs in the war and this hot and humid climate is not exactly favourable for him. But he always points out how it's a small price to pay for living in paradise with Thomas.

“Hello, my dear”, Edward says, because he always knows when it's him, “Vasco has invited us to dinner tonight – well, actually we're supposed to be there in an hour and a half”

“I should get cleaned up, then”, Thomas answers. These are his only decent shoes and they're full of that terrible mud, it'll take ages to clean it off.

“Hold on”, Edward lazily reaches out for him, “Sit here with me a minute, would you?”

They squeeze onto the canvas together and Thomas can't help sitting half in Edward's lap. But it's okay, no-one can see them and the neighbours probably know what's going on, anyway. It's always nice to be like this, close and at rest, it grounds Thomas and evens out his soul. Somewhere down the road, the Puerto Ricans are singing one of their traditional songs, on the other side someone is playing the guitar to a different tune. These are the sounds of life, of home, and Thomas is sharing this life and this home with the one he loves. It might not always be perfect, but in this moment, it simply is.

“By the way”, Edward whispers and snuggles a little closer, “Merry Christmas”

 

_Love is and was my King and Lord,_

_And will be, tho' as yet I keep_

_Within his court on earth, and sleep_

_Encompass'd by his faithful guard,_

 

_And hear at times a sentinel_

_Who moves about from place to place,_

_And whispers to the worlds of space._

_In the deep night, that all is well._

 

_(Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Poem 126, 1850)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going a bit crazy with the poems here. But I couldn't decide between this one and the one at the beginning.
> 
> This is part 2 finished. Hope you liked it. The final part will still take a while but some of the in-between fics are almost ready.


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